From a Twinkling Star to a Passing Angel
by Spikesgirl58
Summary: It's nearly Christmas and the good crew at Taste has convinced Illya to take a much needed vacation. It's a decision they might not live to regret! Merry Christmas, everyone!


Illya stepped into the darkened room and flipped on the overheard lights. The kitchen was suddenly ablaze with illumination. It was odd to be in the kitchen when it was so quiet. There were very few times when he beat his kitchen staff in, at least these days. There were times when he'd been the first in and last out.

Illya walked to his work station and caught a distorted view of himself in the highly polished chrome. For a moment, he half remembered something, himself, but not himself. It must have been something to do with his time in UNCLE. He hated that so much of his earlier days were gone. It was as if his memories stopped at twenty and then picked up again at thirty eight.

He'd look at his body and wonder about this scar or that. Once, he'd known what they were from and now he knew he'd earned them honorably and not much more. He'd fought being deprogrammed for a long time and now he wished he'd resisted harder. They'd been relentless and insisted that he was too dangerous as he was. After nearly shooting a man in cold blood in a case of mistaken identity, he'd given in.

Worse, it was the memories that they'd left intact. Sadly, he remembered leaving UNCLE and why.

 _I wonder if I'll ever forget that moment or that pain?_ He touched the side of his face unconsciously as if remembering, but not. And he had a brief mental image of Napoleon strapped to a table and knew instinctively it was his own doing. _Perhaps it's better not to know._

He reached for a clean cloth and began to polish the already gleaming metal. As he wiped, his breath created small white clouds. It was cold in the kitchen as they always had the thermostat turned purposefully low. In another hour, it would be comfortable as stove tops and ovens were brought up and the day's prep began. By the dinner rush, they would be in tee shirts and sweating.

In his mind, Illya started to run through the menu and a sudden movement flashed in his peripheral vision. He snapped his head around, but saw nothing. They spent a lot of money on pest control and the thought that a mouse could be in the kitchen made Illya's stomach roil. Instantly, he was in the spot, pulling away stacks of equipment and looking for any sign. There was nothing.

"What are you doing?"

Matt's voice made Illya start and he took a calming breath. Then glanced over his shoulder at Taste's co-owner and co-chef.

"I thought I saw something." He continued to move things out of the corner. "A mouse."

"With all the precautions we take, _cara_? The mouse would have a better chance in a room full of hungry cats." There was an anxious edge to Matt's voice. "Are you sure you aren't looking for a mouse hole to hide yourself in? Napoleon is waiting."

It had started as a joke at Illya's birthday. Matt suggested that Napoleon's gift of a carpet cleaner lacked romance and perhaps it was time for a second honeymoon. Napoleon allowed as they hadn't really even had a first one. It was true. The restaurant had just received its last star and they were packed. Illya allowed himself a two-day break for their honeymoon and that was it.

The following week, his staff presented them with an early Christmas gift – a getaway at a very exclusive B&B at Lake Tahoe. It was located close to the casinos, several award winning restaurants, including the five star Harrah's Summit and, of course, the shows. The ski resorts and various spas were also nearby and best of all, if something happened, they were just three hours from Jackson.

That has been the easy part. Convincing Illya that this trip would be a good idea was a whole other ballgame. Even while the Velon Incident, as it was now referred to, was a thing of the past, it was still hard for Illya to be away from Taste. He managed a couple of days, but he was always worried about the restaurant.

"I still think this is a mistake."

"Really? _Cara,_ you honestly believe I am so incompetent a chef that I can't run our restaurant for a week?"

"There are just so many reservations on the books. We're so busy now." Illya began to rub the scar tissue on the palm of his right hand.

"And we have taken on extra staff and trained them. We will be fine." Matt's tone softened. "We will not fail, either our guests or you. You can trust us, Illya. Now you need to remember the most important thing in your life, your man."

Matt rarely called Illya by his given name and Illya stopped, smiling.

"I know. It's just…"

"You worry and we love you for it, but now you need to leave. Your beloved, he is waiting to take you away and hopefully before the storm hits."

Rand walked in, closely followed by Henry. They were discussing last night's hockey game and both seemed surprised to see Illya.

"I thought you were leaving," Henry said, dropping his knife pack at his workstation.

"I'm trying," Matt answered, giving Illya a gentle push. "Chef, he has other ideas."

"ILLYA!" Napoleon's voice made its way to them.

"Go, now." Rand pointed. "While we all still have eardrums."

He hesitated a moment more and then walked resolutely to the staff entrance just as Jesus was coming in with a tray of pastries. "Ah, I just gave Napoleon a platter for your trip over the mountain."

"Appealing to his stomach, that's the way to get him out of here," Rand muttered to Matt.

"I'm still here," Illya said, snatching up a bear claw from the tray. "I just hope you guys know what you are doing."

"Trust us." Henry took off his jacket and hung it on a hook. "This isn't just your vacation, you know."

"I'm feeling so loved now." Illya sighed. "All right. Take care of the place. Try not to burn her down."

Matt hugged him, then Henry and Rand. "Travel safe, Chef, and get some rest. We will be fine."

Illya stepped back out into the cold Jackson morning. The grass was crunchy underfoot as winter was close at hand now. The days were still fairly mild, but the nights were frost laced and promising of snow to come. He ate the pastry as he walked over to his truck and climbed in. Napoleon was already in the passenger seat, seatbelt on and lips dusted with powdered sugar.

Illya smiled and leaned in for a sweet kiss, taking care to leave no sugar behind.

"Mmm, you have a bear claw," Napoleon said as they parted. "I can taste the almond."

"We'll make a chef of you yet. Jesus gave me one for the road. Do you have the coffee?"

Napoleon held up the thermos. "And the suitcases are locked in the back, along with chains, extra water, blankets, a first aid kit, and flares."

"Are you planning for the end of the world?"

"No, just normal Sierra travel. If the storm moves faster than they predict, I wanted us to be prepared."

Illya grinned, put his seatbelt on and started the truck. He had complained when Napoleon had presented him with the four-wheel drive vehicle a few Christmases ago, but the truth of the matter was that he loved it. It was comfortable to drive, maneuvered well and perfect for a trip like this.

"And when we come home, we'll stop in Pollack Pines and cut a Christmas tree or two," Illya said as he put the truck into gear and eased out onto the road. It was still early, even by Jackson's standards and they were alone. "Next stop, Kirkwood for breakfast."

"After all of these?" Napoleon held out the plate for him to see.

"Are you kidding me? Those are just an appetizer!" Illya laughed and grabbed the nearest pastry. "Tally ho!"

The roads were familiar, but Illya drove carefully. He knew how black ice liked to hide in the shadows. They'd just said goodbye to a friend who'd forgotten to respect the Foothills. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Napoleon grip the armrest of the truck door and eased back on the gas. There was no hurry and no reason to make his lover a nervous wreck.

"So is Vinea ready for the big sale?" Illya knew Napoleon had been stockpiling wine for a month now. The two weekends before Christmas were traditionally Jackson's busiest. The small town held an open house and invited everyone in. Taste would be busy not only with their own patrons, but also supplying holiday treats to many of the local businesses. There was caroling, an appearance by Santa and even a _posada_ from the church to the town hall.

Vinea, of course, was front and center with its complimentary wine tasting and _hors d'oeuvres, also supplied by Taste. Many ended up walking across the parking lot to make dinner reservations. It was a win/win to Illya's way of thinking._

 _"Well, you never know what wine will take off, although I have hedged my bets."_

 _"Sobon's zins?"_

 _"I've got five cases of each one. If it doesn't sell, we'll be drinking a lot of red in January."_

 _Illya eased off the gas as they approached a bridge._

 _"Is this where it happened? Is that why we're slowing?" Napoleon looked out the window at the canyon below. It was a dizzying distance to the floor and he unconsciously shifted away from the car door._

 _"No, Glen was killed over by Murphys in the other direction. I just know to take it slow over the bridges at this time of the morning."_

 _"Experience?"_

 _"Yeah, I was picking up a side of beef and in a time crunch. Let's just say I was damned lucky that there were no other cars on the road at the time. That's when I learned that you can rush some things, but driving at this time of the year isn't one of them. Not up here at any rate."_

 _"So, what do you know about this B &B we're headed for?"_

 _"Not much more than the pamphlet says." Illya didn't let his eyes stray from the road. A few snowflakes drifted down and momentarily danced on the hood of the truck before melting. "Looks like the snow is starting. I'm glad we decided to take 88 as opposed to 50. It took an hour off our time."_

 _"From what Matt told me, they cater to a special crowd."_

 _"You are still upset over getting kicked out of that B &B, aren't you?" Many years ago, they had been denied access because they were a couple. They ended up finding a much nicer B&B and the owner soon learned a lesson in being prejudice. She'd soon moved away from the foothills, back to wherever she'd first come, but Napoleon still smarted. "It came out all right in the end."_

 _"I know, but it was the first time…"_

 _"You'd been treated like an outsider. I can understand that." Illya slowed for a curve. "Try being a gay Russian in the 60's in America."_

 _"It's not right, but it is getting better."_

 _"Is it? I'm not so sure. Why are we going to a small B &B as opposed to checking into Harrah's?"_

 _"Because someone else made our reservations? I'd have booked the honeymoon suite if the choice had been left up to me."_

Illya scowled at his rearview mirror. "Hang on, I need to pull off."

"What's wrong? Coffee getting to you?"

"Some idiot has been tailgating me for the last ten minutes. I'm going to let him pass." A narrow bit of shoulder offered Illya an opportunity and almost instantly, the vehicle roared by, complete with the truck's passenger flipping them off.

"And that's the thanks you get."

"They are young and perhaps they know the road better. Or perhaps they are just idiots. I'd just as soon make it to our destination alive as opposed to quickly."

"You're funny that way." Napoleon gave Illya's knee a squeeze before returning back to his study of the snowy landscape.

By the time they pulled into Kirkwood, the snow was thick and heavy, caking the windows as fast as the windshield wipers could move it away.

Illya pulled into a gas station and up to the gas pumps. Almost immediately, Napoleon had his seatbelt unbuckled. "How did you know?" he asked as he opened the door.

"I know how I feel. You go first and pay on the way."

"Gee, thanks."

"I think we'd better pass on breakfast, Napoleon," Illya said as he climbed back into the truck. "I'd like to push on and get off the road. I've just seen the weather forecast and it's not good."

Napoleon was doing his best to clear the truck of snow and his coat and gloves were soaked. "I think you are right. I'm glad we put the bed cover on this summer. Otherwise our luggage would be a lost cause."

"Agreed." Instead of heading back out onto the road, Illya maneuvered the vehicle into a short line just past the gas station.

"What's going on?" Napoleon looked worried.

"I think I'm going to have them install the chains while we're here. I have a feeling we are going to need them."

"Can't we do that?"

"Yes, but we aren't going to."

"Why?"

"Trust me on this one, Napoleon. You know I'm careful with money, but this is one thing I don't mind paying for."

A few minutes later, they were back on the road, albeit a bumpy one now. "I see what you mean about not installing chains. I didn't realize it was quite the process."

"I knew once you saw what was involved, you'd agree with me. This drive usually takes about forty-five minutes. I'm guessing about ninety now, providing there are no accidents along the way."

"And the chances of that?" A car raced by them, splattering the windshield with slush.

"Little to none with fools like that behind the wheel."

"What do you mean you are out of rack of lamb?" Matt tried to keep his voice steady. "Lamb steaks are not the same. You promised us racks." He put his hand over the receiver and swore in Italian. " _Si, si,_ just send us what you have."

He cradled the phone and pinched the bridge of his nose. Rand leaned into the tiny office. "Ready for more good news?"

"No… yes, what is it?"

"There's no water."

"What? How can there be no water?"

"I just went into the men's room and there's no water. We still have it in the kitchen, though."

"That won't help our gusts. Who do we use for our plumber?"

"You're asking me?" Rand pointed to the rolodex on Illya's desk. "I'll bet it's in there."

"I am supposed to be making rack of lamb with lamb steaks and now this? Why do these things never happen when Chef is here?"

"I suspect they do. You just don't know about it. You… ah… can always call him."

"And admit that I can't run Taste?" He pointed. " _Andare via, cattivo_!"

"I'll leave, but I'm not a villain. Just a humble servant. Oh, and the vegetable delivery will be late. The truck broke an axle."

He ducked away as a flurry of papers exploded from the room.

"Everything okay in there?" Henry looked up from his chopping.

"I think Matt just exploded."

Illya's head was throbbing and his body felt as if it had been seized by one huge cramp as he pulled up in front of the Hidden Pines B & B. There was a spot with a sign, "Check in only' close to the front door and he took advantage of it.

The building was two stories high and tucked among the pine trees. Snow helped the trees conceal it from view. In fact, they drove past it twice before finally spotting it

"At least it comes by its name honestly," Napoleon said as he undid his seatbelt. "It's very well hidden."

"Perhaps too honestly. You shouldn't make it that hard for people to find you."

"Well, let's be real, the snow isn't helping."

"When does it? At least the driveway is as cleared as it can be."

The driveway in front of the double doors was shoveled and Illya eased himself out of the driver's seat. Napoleon grunted as he slid out his side. "Nothing personal, Illya, but I'm very glad we're here."

"Agreed. Another fifteen minutes behind that wheel and I would have driven into a tree voluntarily."

"Come on in, you two!" A young woman gestured to them from the lobby door. They exchanged looks and hurriedly obliged her.

Illya's first impression was honey. The lobby was honey-colored, from the pine logs of the walls to the floor to the furniture. It was warm and welcoming, just what they needed after that drive. He took off his coat and stamped the snow from his boot on the front mat. "Very nice."

The woman was busy behind the expansive front desk. "Sit yourself down by the fire and relax. You must be the Solo/Kuryakin party."

"How do you know that?" Napoleon opened his coat and took off his gloves. "It's warm in here." He sighed happily.

"You are the only ones left to check in." The woman retuned with a tray. Here's some hot chocolate with a splash of kirsch in it." She lifted a mug and passed it over to Napoleon. "We had this at a restaurant in the Foothills. It was so good that we had to steal it."

Illya accepted his mug and sipped. "It would be better if you used cherry chocolate brandy."

"How do you know that? Have you eaten there, too?"

"It was my restaurant you visited." Illya smiled at her. To Napoleon, he said, "That's how Matt got this card."

"You're kidding!" She blushed slightly. "I hope… I mean, I'm sorry?"

"Don't be." Illya smiled at her. "I didn't invent it, either. I stole it from a lounge in the Peppermill in Reno."

She picked up a clipboard. "Once you have had a chance to catch your breath, if you could fill this out. I'm Sophie, by the way. My partner, Meredith, and I own this place."

"I love the colors. It reminds me of food."

"Everything reminds you of food, Illya." Napoleon picked up the clipboard and began to write.

"Where do you want me to park my truck?" Illya asked.

"Where you are is fine. I'm not expecting anyone else today."

"What about your other guests?"

"This is a very quiet time for us. Everyone else has checked in and have either gone for the day or are hunkering down. We'll have a few folks in tonight for dinner, but that's it."

Illya was suddenly all attention. "You have a restaurant?" Napoleon rolled his eyes.

"A small one, only twelve tables. That's where you'll be served breakfast in the morning. We do a modest lunch and dinner service." She looked hopeful. "Are you interested?"

Napoleon looked over at Illya. "It would save us from having to go back out in the storm."

Sophie laughed. "That outside? That's business as usual here. The big storm isn't supposed to hit us until later this afternoon." She hesitated. "And we have our own generator, just in case."

"We've gotten soft, old friend." Illya shook his head slowly. "I think I'd like to try your restaurant out. We are going to be here a few days. There's always time to do other things and we owe ourselves a little downtime. Does our room come with any cooking facilities?"

"We do have one, it's the honeymooners' suite. You know, in case they don't want to leave and all. It's a bit more than your other room, though."

"Guess we get it, after all. He will be glad to pay the difference." Illya grinned at Napoleon's smirk. "Is there a store nearby?"

"There's one a mile down the road on your left."

"I think we passed it." Illya stood up and grabbed his coat. "Napoleon why don't you get us checked in? I'm going to make a run to the store and pick up a few things."

"I'll be happy to go with you." Napoleon's smile was worried. "It's pretty nasty out there."

"I'll be fine, Napoleon. In town the roads are better."

"Just leave your bags and we'll get them up to your room. It'll be Number Twelve."

Napoleon walked with Illya back to the front door. "Illya."

"I'll be careful, Napoleon. You have a warm bath ready and I'll be back before you know it." Illya reached up to cup Napoleon's cheek. "Promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Another cancellation?" Rocky asked as Roxanne cradled the phone. She nodded tiredly.

"A party of fourteen and they want to re-book before Christmas." She consulted her book and sighed. "We are already stuffed to the gills."

"There are times I wish we could wave our arms and double the size of this place, if only for the night." Rocky moved behind her and began to massage her neck.

"Your hands should be bronzed." Roxanne leaned back into them, her eyes closed in bliss.

"I think Matt might have something to say about that." Rocky laughed, then looked over as Stella and Celeste, Taste's twin bartenders, came through the front door in a flurry of snow.

"Boy, is it snowing out!" Stella stamped her feet. "I should have brought a sled and I could slide all the way home."

"I haven't seen it this bad since… last winter." Celeste shook the snow out of her hair. "Chef picked the perfect time to be gone. The skiing should be fabulous."

"They are going on a second honeymoon," Rocky said, bringing them two bar towels. "I don't think skiing is high on their list."

"Then what…?" Celeste's cheeks pinked up. "Oh. Sorry… I'm not usually that dense."

"Yeah, usually you're worse," Her sister teased, then hugged her. "At least the power hasn't gone out." The lights flickered a warning. "Yet. You do have gas for the generator, right?"

"I'll go check."

Stella walked around the bar and turned on the faucet. There was an odd gurgling sound. "Like she said, Chef picked the perfect time to be gone."

Illya shifted the bags as he carried them up the staircase. Sophie had given him directions to his room and he was anxious to get inside and relax. Even though he'd made light of the conditions, the roads were treacherous and he'd seen at least five accidents going and returning. It would be good to take it easy until the town had a chance to dig out.

He got to their door and gave it a gentle kick. "Napoleon?"

The door swung open and he stared at Napoleon. The man looked furious and terrified all at once.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "It's been hours!"

"Granted it took a little bit longer than I thought, but it wasn't that long."

"It's nearly three!"

"What?" Illya carried the bags through the room and into the kitchenette. He set them down and checked his watch, then glanced over at the mussed bedspread. "Napoleon, did you happen to fall asleep?"

"For a while, yeah." He pointed to a bedside clock. "When I woke up, I saw that you'd been gone for nearly four hours."

Illya glanced at his watch and chuckled. "Napoleon, it's barely noon." He bent his wrist so Napoleon could see. "It's dark because of the storm and that clock is wrong."

The anger was gone, replaced by confusion. "I… I thought..."

Illya gathered Napoleon into his arms, kissing, then hugging him tightly. "Thank you for being worried about me. I love your tremendous capacity for compassion. I love you and I'm sorry I scared you."

Napoleon pulled away a little to stare into Illya's eyes. "It's just… well, I was watching TV and they showed a crushed truck and it made my mind race. Then I saw the clock and -"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Napoleon. I remember that fear all too well." Illya stepped away to pull off his wet jacket. He draped it carefully over the back of a chair that was not far from the fireplace.

Napoleon lifted Illya's scarred palm to his lips and kissed it gently. "I know."

"Is that gas?" He nodded to the fireplace.

Napoleon looked genuinely confused. "What? Not me."

"And they say romance is dead." Illya laughed, his mood restored. "No, not you. The fireplace, is it gas?"

"Ah, yes." Napoleon went to a small table and picked up a card. "The instructions are here."

"I thought I'd turn it on and get this stuff to dry. Then we can discuss lunch. I don't know about you, but I'm starved."

"Illya, you have been starved for as long as I've known you." Napoleon walked over to the window. "It's really coming down out there now. Your thought of staying in tonight is a good one." He slapped his hands together. "I'm sure there's one or two things we can come up with to keep us entertained."

Illya's eyes dropped to Napoleon's crotch. "One or two things," he echoed as he arranged his gloves and hat.

"I'm just a plaything for you, aren't I?" It was an old and much loved joke.

"Would you mind if I said yes?"

"I'd mind if you said no. By the way, the bathtub, it's huge. More than enough for two."

"Who were you planning on inviting to share it with us?"

"Just you and me, myself and I."

"Mmm, I hope my heart can take it."

"It's not your heart I'm worried about."

Illya laughed and then spotted the phone. "Do you think we should call and let them know we made it okay?"

"I'll have to hurt you if you try. One word from them and we'd be back in the truck and heading to Jackson. While we're here, that phone is off limits."

Illya sighed and nodded. "You're right. And they'd call if there was trouble."

"Why haven't they called?" Matt was pacing. There was a plumber working in the storeroom and two very disgruntled men trying to unload a truck had to work around him and his tools. Because the parking lot was snowed in, they were having to haul the crates from the road to the restaurant and they were not happy about it. The power was out and the snow showed no sign of abating.

"They got there safely," Rocky said, rubbing Matt's forearm. "I called the hotel and checked."

"Do they not care?"

"They are on their second honeymoon, Mattie. They should be busy with each other, not us. Besides, with the weather and lack of power, we aren't going to open tonight."

There was a sound from the stockroom and then raised voices. "Trouble in paradise. I have a feeling the plumber got in their way one too many times."

Matt stood up and sighed. "Perhaps Chef is right. Perhaps I can't do this."

"Nonsense. You can and you must. You've been dependent upon him for far too long." Rocky patted Matt on the back. "Now, shoulders squared, chin up. Go get them."

"Come with me?" The voice was small.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Illya slid into the bathtub, hissing at the heat. From the other side of the very large Jacuzzi tub, Napoleon watched and sipped his very cold champagne.

"Too warm?"

"No, just too cold." Illya didn't stop until he was fully submerged beneath the fragrant water and bubbles. He popped back up a moment later and brushed his hair out of his face. "Glorious."

The curtains were open, but the windows were too steamed to see much of anything. They already knew, though, that the snow was still coming down at a heavy rate. "This keeps up much longer and we will be totally snowed in." Napoleon handed Illya a glass and raised his in a toast

"At least for a few hours. Tahoe gets too much snow to ever let it stop things for long." Illya moved to Napoleon, settled happily to lean back against him.

"How about you?" Napoleon nuzzled Illya's ear. "Does anything stop you for long?"

"Let's find out." Illya sat up, took Napoleon's glass from him and smiled.

The room was dark when they woke and for a moment Illya was disoriented. He reached for his watch and squinted at the dial. Sighing, he set it aside and tried the light. Nothing happened.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up." He dove under the covers and found his lover's body warm and familiar.

"Hey," Napoleon grumbled. "Get back on your own side."

"I'd love to, but the power is out and our dinner reservations are in fifteen minutes."

"What?" Napoleon dug his way out from his sanctuary of pillows and covers. "What time is it?"

"Nearly 6:30. We need to hurry if we are going to be there in time." Illya had already braved the coolness of the room. He shivered as he grabbed his coat from the nearby couch and moved to the fireplace. Thankful of considerable practice, he has the fire going within a matter of a few minutes. That didn't make the room immediately warmer and he chose to dress in front of it before daring a trip to the bathroom.

As he passed the bed, Napoleon handed him a flashlight. He'd taken it from his travel kit and placed it by the light on his side of the table. "You were expecting trouble?" Illya asked.

"With you around? Always." Napoleon retreated into the warmth of the bedclothes.

Illya hurried through his ablutions and came back into the main section of their room. He carried his own flashlight now. Napoleon hadn't moved from his earlier position.

"Napoleon?"

"Must I?"

"You must." Illya handed Napoleon's flashlight back as he headed back to the fireplace. After a moment, Napoleon hurried out of the bed and towards the heat, gathering clothes as he went.

"I'm going to be rumpled," he complained as he pulled his shirt on. He grabbed his pants and shivered as he pulled them up. "Why can't someone make pre-heated clothes?"

"There's an untouched market. As for the wrinkles, under a sweater, who will know?"

"Me." He sat to put on his socks and shoes, then he hesitated. "I don't need boots, do I?"

"For the dining room? I suspect they shoveled before they opened."

"Funny guy."

"I credit it with all the time I've been around you." Illya stood and grabbed a sweater. "You ready?"

"You must be very hungry to be in this much of a hurry."

"After what you put me through this afternoon, they'll be lucky if they don't run out."

Carefully, they made their way down the wide staircase, picking up speed as they neared the lobby. It was lit with a dozen lanterns and a large fire crackled merrily away.

Sophie looked up as they hit the ground floor. "Are you two doing okay?" She held a receiver up for them to see. "The power company says we should be back on line within the hour."

"Never better. We do some of our best work in the dark," Illya said, then grunted as Napoleon elbowed him. "What? I do."

"How's the restaurant look?"

"Sparse. Meredith will be happy to see you. When it gets this bad, people tend to hunker down. We just have the B&B crowd tonight and half of them left for the casinos this afternoon. Whether they will be back tonight or not is anyone's guess. I hope that they will… yes, I'm still here."

Napoleon gestured to Illya and walked in the direction of the restaurant. They approached the internal door and instantly a young woman was there.

"Hello, two for dinner?"

"Yes, please."

She led them through a candle-lit dining room and seated them just to the side of yet another fireplace. There were no other tables occupied that Illya could see.

"Slow night."

"It is always this way this time of the year."

"But if we have no water and no power, how are we going to serve?" Matt was pacing the small bar area. Stella polished a glass and replaced it.

"Maybe no one will show up. The roads are treacherous."

"The hotel is full. The National was just a few yards down the street from the restaurant."

"They have a restaurant."

"Would you go there when there was a restaurant of our caliber just around the corner?"

"In this weather, you bet your Jack Daniels I would."

Rocky came out of the kitchen with a grin on his face. "We have water."

There was a sudden flare and abruptly all the lights came on. "And we have power." They flickered. "Sort of." Celeste held up crossed fingers.

"Roxanne?"

"We have two hours before the first guests are due to arrive."

Matt looked at his co-workers and slapped his hands together. "Then let's cook and pray that someone shows up."

"I can't believe we were the only ones there tonight." Napoleon unlocked their door. The room was toasty as the power had flickered back to life halfway through their salad course.

"But on the other hand, I bet we got more service than we would have with a full house. The restaurant was poorly designed. There's too much space between the dining room and the kitchen. The food got cold during the journey."

"Mine was good."

"I'm not arguing the flavor, I'm arguing the heat. Most dishes are meant to be served at a certain temperature. Anything else is an insult to the guest."

"I'm guessing ninety percent of the people dining wouldn't know that."

"I am not of the ninety percent. To succeed, you must treat each guest as if they are a world class culinary connoisseur or a wine expert. Would you purposefully serve a bad wine to someone on the supposition that they wouldn't know the difference?"

Napoleon was incensed. "Of course not! That would be an insult." Then he nodded. "Point taken."

Illya pulled open the curtains. The snow was still coming down, but not as fast. "So what do you want to do tomorrow?"

"We're on vacation. Do we have to do anything?"

"No, but I wanted to make sure we are on the same page." Illya looked at the phone. "I wonder if they are doing all right."

"If they weren't, you can bet they would have called by now." Napoleon moved to his side and embraced him. "Does it bother you that you aren't indispensable?"

Illya smirked. "Just a little. I guess we all want to think the world can't turn without us, but if UNCLE can survive with us, a tiny restaurant with seating for seventy should be just fine."

"You say one thing, but your eyes tell me a different story." Napoleon reached up to brush a strand of blond hair from Illya's temple and then kissed it. "I love your commitment, your sense of duty, but now…"

"My place is here? In your arms?"

"Right where it has always been."

Outside the snow fell and inside, two men fell again and again, happily, joyfully, wonderfully.

An epilogue…

"So what are you going to tell them?" Rocky asked as he locked the door. Now Taste and Vinea were closed for the holidays. There would be time to breathe and relax before the insanity of New Year's Eve.

Matt toed off his clogs and flexed his toes. Roxanne had her feet propped up on a chair and the twin, serving and kitchen staff were all scattered about the dining room in various stages of exhaustion, all with a beverage of their choice.

"That everything worked like clockwork, we had no problems and managed to survive one of the busiest nights of the year just fine."

"Liar," Rand said as he sipped his beer. "I've never seen the kitchen slammed the way it was tonight."

"But we got through it." Matt held up his wine glass. "But it wouldn't have happened without all of you. We are truly a family and family means everything. Thank you and now, let's clean this place up and go home."

"Illya will know the truth the minute he hits his inbox, you know," Henry murmured as Matt passed him.

" _Si_ , but until then it will be our little secret."

"You got it, Chef."

Matt flashed a huge smile at Rocky, who merely laughed and started to sing,

 _Happy New Year  
Happy New Year  
May we all have a vision now and then  
Of a world where every neighbor is a friend  
Happy New Year  
Happy New Year  
May we all have our hopes, our will to try  
If we don't we might as well lay down and die  
You and I_


End file.
